Hunted (15 page)

God, she felt stupid having to admit this to Clay and Diane. “She knows my family’s there, and that my father was a former DA. That’s one of the reasons I was able to earn her trust in the first place. She was obviously scared that her ex was getting close to her and Xander, and wanted to get out of town immediately.” Could there be another reason why Leticia had chosen Baton Rouge though? She’d never mentioned any relatives or friends living there to Zoe.

She voiced her suspicion. “Maybe she wants to meet me and stay at my parents’ place for a couple days, because she’d feel safe there?”

“You really think she’d ask that of you?” Diane asked, her voice taut with disapproval.

The usual professional boundaries between volunteers at the shelter and the women they dealt with had been blurred a long time ago with Leticia in an effort to gain her trust, and it was Zoe’s own doing, so she couldn’t be upset about the liberties Leticia was taking now. “I don’t know what to think right now, except she’s clearly desperate and believes she and her son are in imminent danger.”

“So will you go?”

She looked up at Clay again and found him watching her, then swallowed. “I don’t want to stand her up and leave her waiting out there alone with her son at six in the morning, and she begged me not to go to the cops with this, so…” She raised her eyebrows at Clay, looking for his input. This was partially her fault, by not maintaining clear boundaries with Leticia before. What choice did she have now but to go?

“I’ll come with you,” he said. “And Tuck. But when we meet her, this all ends. We have to turn this over to someone in law enforcement, even if she doesn’t like it. Enough’s enough. We need to find out who this guy terrorizing her is, and bring him in.”

Convincing Leticia to trust anyone in law enforcement was going to be a challenge, but maybe if she met Clay and Tuck in person she’d relent. And Clay was right, this was getting dangerous and had to end before things escalated or Zoe got involved any further. She nodded. “Okay.”

But now she was worried about how Leticia and Xander were doing, out there all on their own, being hunted by a man so dangerous that Leticia had fled town and left a desperate coded message for Zoe. Had she actually expected Zoe to drive to Baton Rouge and meet her at the park all alone tomorrow morning? It had to be because she’d hoped Zoe would take her and Xander to her parents’. It was the only explanation Zoe could come up with.

“Thank you,” Diane said, sounding relieved. “Please keep me updated. I’m worried about her, Xander,
and
you.”

Zoe wasn’t feeling too great about the situation either. “I will, and thanks for calling. Bye.” She ended the call and put her phone on the counter.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Clay asked, watching her with that intense, penetrating gaze. She was surprised he wasn’t putting the kibosh on the whole thing immediately, but he must have seen how important this was and that a woman and boy’s lives were in danger. Deep down he wasn’t nearly as much of a hard-ass as he’d like the rest of the world to believe.

Zoe nodded, bit her lip. If she had him and Tuck with her tomorrow morning, she’d be fine. “Even if I wanted to go to the police for help with this, I have nothing to give them except the info she’s given me. No name, no physical description or address for the guy. And for all I know, he might be a cop.”

He grunted. “Call your parents while we have Celida check the local cameras, mention what’s going on and we’ll go from there. If you’re facing a credible threat, we’re going to take some serious precautions. And then I want you to come with me and meet Tuck and the others at the hotel.”

That last part made her stomach knot. “Why, you think we need to bring everyone in on this?” She needed a team that size for backup tomorrow morning?

“Not sure yet, although we’ll have to tell Tuck, but that’s not why.” He shrugged. “I just want you to come with me.”

Two months ago that display of nonchalance would have fooled her. But now she knew him well enough to realize that despite his remoteness, that nonchalance was feigned. Because he
did
care.

And he wanted to spend more time with her enough to ask. The thought sent a wave of warmth through her. “Should I change then?” She’d never been to a security conference before. Was it all professional attire? “I can do corporate Goth like I used to back when I worked at the law firm. Black skirt suit, ruffled blouse, skull pin on the lapel and my coffin briefcase.”

“Corporate Goth.” His lips twitched and his gaze traveled the length of her, stalling on her breasts and legs. “But no need to change. You look great just like that.”

She felt a blush working its way up her cheeks, his approval touching her deeply. “Thanks.”

For whatever reason, at the end of their marriage her ex had suddenly become embarrassed of her style and the way she dressed, especially when he was trying so hard to impress his conservative friends at his law firm. Hoping for a big promotion that had never materialized. It hadn’t shaken her confidence to the point of making her question her identity, but it had hurt and she wasn’t wasting her time on another guy who didn’t like who she was.

Apparently Clay had no problem with any of that, and no problem taking her to meet his professional colleagues as she was.

In giving her that compliment and the respect that came with it, he’d stolen yet another little chunk of her heart. At this rate, he was going to hold more of it than she did.

And she didn’t even want to think about what the implications of that were yet.

Supervisory Special Agent Matt DeLuca ordered himself a plate of shrimp and grits while he waited for the man he was meeting with. The guy was somewhat of a legend in the intelligence community and Matt had heard a lot about him, but they’d never spoken before. There were a few priority cases they’d worked on in conjunction with the NSA recently, though never with any direct contact with Rycroft, and a few new ones on their radar to discuss. The conference here in New Orleans provided the perfect opportunity to meet.

The waitress brought him his meal and he paid for it in cash before taking a bite as he turned from the counter to survey the room. The conference hotel was a wet dream for any terrorist looking to put a serious dent in the US effort to win the War on Terror. Agents and other personnel from half a dozen different agencies were there to discuss the hot topics of the day, trying to stay one step ahead of the enemy.

Which was why Matt was meeting his contact at a quiet diner on the other side of town.

His focus sharpened on the doorway as a man stepped inside, directly across from where Matt was sitting. He was around six feet tall, graying hair, and carried himself like a seasoned operator in his dress pants and pinstriped button-down shirt. There were plenty of men who matched that description at the conference right now, but something about this man’s demeanor told him instantly that it was the NSA’s Alex Rycroft.

Rycroft scanned the diner, his gaze locking on Matt instantly, and headed over. Matt set his fork down and stood. “Rycroft?”

“DeLuca,” Rycroft said, shaking his hand in a firm grip. “Good to meet you.”

“You too.” The guy was in his early fifties but still did fieldwork sometimes and Matt could already tell that middle age hadn’t affected his operational edge any.

Rycroft took the stool beside him and ordered a coffee. “So, how are your boys? Heard a few of them got pretty banged up a couple weeks back,” he said while they waited for the waitress to get the coffee.

He meant during the op at the federal bank in June, when a veteran who was an explosives expert had taken hostages and threatened to blow the building. It hadn’t taken long for DeLuca and the rest of the FBI team to figure out what Ken Spivey really wanted.

Revenge. A misguided effort to avenge his son’s and wife’s death years before, when they’d been killed in the crossfire during a similar HRT op in a bank hostage taking.

Matt had been forced to make the call and approve the breach, knowing he was sending his guys into a possible death trap. Three of them had been badly injured on the attempt, Bauer the worst of them. Even though he knew he’d made the right call that day, Matt still felt responsible for what had happened to his guys.

“They’re all back to active duty status, except for one, and he’ll be there shortly too. Their team’s on training cycle right now.” Bauer was technically on limited duty until he had the all-clear from his docs, though he’d been participating in this latest training in Biloxi with the DEA guys. He’d made it back much faster than the doctors had anticipated, but that didn’t surprise Matt or anyone who knew him. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL. Those guys didn’t take well to lying around, even during recuperation from a serious back injury.

“Glad to hear it.” The waitress set the coffee mug on the counter. Rycroft picked it up and looked at Matt. “Should we sit someplace a little more private for this?”

It wasn’t a question, and Matt heartily agreed on the change of location, away from any potential eavesdroppers. He got up and followed Rycroft to an empty table at the back of the restaurant with four upholstered chairs surrounding it, set into a quieter corner. They wouldn’t be talking about anything classified out here in the open, obviously, but it was a good chance to at least get on the same page about a few things and having now met Rycroft in person, it would only help in future operations.

“So,” the NSA agent said, easing back into his chair. “You were Corps, right?”

“Yep. Eleven years.”

“Scout Sniper first, before you moved into FORECON?”

Matt was pretty sure the man had read up on him and already knew everything about his background, but he didn’t mind playing along while they felt each other out a bit. “That’s right.” The Marine Corp’s Scout Sniper School was one of the toughest things he’d ever done. He still wore his HOG’s tooth—the 7.62 mm round given to him upon graduation—around his neck. He also had a badass tat on his right shoulder blade.

Rycroft nodded. He’d chosen a table against the wall, leaving Matt to take one across from him. Matt didn’t like having his back exposed to a room like this but he knew Rycroft was vigilant. It was in the way his gaze rarely stayed still. For guys like them who’d spent their lives on the front lines in harm’s way to defend their country, it was second nature. He knew Rycroft had spent nearly his entire career in the Army in SF.

“One of the Titanium guys I’ve worked closely with over the past year was FORECON.”

Matt nodded. “Sean Dunphy. I know the name, but we never met. Heard he got hit by an IED in eastern Afghanistan and it was pretty bad.”

“Killed the other guys in the SUV with him, and temporarily paralyzed him from the waist down. But he’s walking now.” Rycroft’s cool gray eyes warmed a fraction with something close to pride. “In fact, he just got married in the spring.”

“Glad to hear that. I heard you got married recently, too. Congratulations.”

He smiled a bit. “Thanks.” He glanced down at the gold band on Matt’s ring finger. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Matt nodded and took another sip of his beer to cover the all too familiar pang he still felt whenever someone mentioned Lisa. Four years after her death and it was only now becoming easier to think about her without feeling suffocated by the loss, and being able to remember her as she’d once been. Before that horrific Fourth of July holiday that had shattered his entire world.

He set the beer aside. “Thanks. She was an amazing lady.” He wished he’d told her that more often.

Well, he wished he’d done a lot of things differently.

“Evers tells me your better half is pretty great too,” he added, for something else to say and to turn the conversation away from his dead wife.

A real smile softened that hard face for a moment. “She is. The women in our lives have to be, to put up with us.”

“True enough,” he said with a laugh. He leaned back and stretched his legs out, deciding to switch topics and get straight to it. “I hear we might have a few current interests in common.”

Rycroft’s smile disappeared and he was all business again. “That we do. You’ll be getting more intel on this in the coming weeks but I wanted you to hear it from me first. That cell you and your boys tangled with back in April?”

The Uyghur Islamic cell, based out of Xinxiang, China. That entire situation had been more than personal for Matt’s team. Evers’s girl, Rachel Granger, had been taken and held hostage by them. Tuck’s girl, Celida Morales, had been badly injured during the kidnapping. “What about it?”

“They’ve got more operatives here than we realized, and have activated more, including linking with another group in Juarez.”

Mexico. “Seriously? They’re doing that kind of networking now?”

Rycroft nodded. “Intelligence says they’re planning to target something in D.C. or New York. We think maybe subway systems.”

They discussed a few more details then talked about an upcoming raid on a suspected financier’s place. The man was rich and heavily guarded, so the HRT was going to be serving the warrant.

Rycroft paused when his phone rang. He pulled it from the holder on his hip, frowned at whatever the message read, then said, “Excuse me a second.” He dialed someone, his voice taut as Matt listened to the one-sided conversation. “I’m on my way. Meet me in the lobby in fifteen.” He put the phone back and stood. “Come on. Got a situation at the hotel.”

Matt pushed to his feet, frowning. “What kind of situation?”

“Security breach.”

Dammit.
He’d known that the conference being held this close to September eleventh was a bad idea. What the hell had the organizers been thinking? “Some of my guys are there.” More were meeting him there later.

“Not to worry,” Rycroft said as he headed for the door. “It’s been taken care of.”

From his flat tone Matt had a pretty good idea what that meant, but the breach was a definite concern. There could be others. He jogged with Rycroft to the nearest streetcar stop and hopped on. He had a lot of questions but couldn’t ask them in public so he took a deep breath and tamped down his impatience while they rode to the hotel.